The Saints Go Marching On
by Roaddog 469
Summary: Continuation of my twins/OFC saga. If you've read my other stories, this one needs very little intro, basically my take on one girl in love even if she doesn't know it with both twins. See Author's Note inside for complete details...
1. Chapter 1

******Author's Note: Hello to all of my fellow fangirls! So for those of you who were waiting breathlessly (yea, right) for the continuation of my Saints Saga, here it is! Sorry about the long hiatus, but my smut fiction tends to be a bit of an outlet for me when I'm sexually frustrated, and I haven't been since November (insert smutty grin, here). So you can blame my friend with benefits for the delay, but also thank him if you enjoy the smut because it is, ******ahem**, inspired. **

**Anyway, this one takes us right up to the end of Boondock 1, I have the continuation already in mind, and I think it will split up nicely into two more fics, so fear not, Dear Readers, we are not yet finished.**

**I hope y'all enjoy and please review, not flame. **

**PS- A special thanks to Valerie E. Mackin (who also has a helluva boondock series going herself), Nmbr1Fanilow, and ShayGurl for the fan-tastic emails and encouragement. And to pitbullsrok, Penelope sweet, and SaraLostInes for sticking with me and reviewing all the way through this particularly dirty journey. And to everyone who loves this series as much as I do, loves my OFC, and who favorites my stories and puts me on Author Alert (although, y'all could review **cough, cough, hint hint**). Y'all are great and have kept me going. Thank you so much.**

**So here we go, girls. Enjoy!******

I could feel the pressure in my chest, straining to get out. I could feel the tears burning in the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. But I wasn't going to do it. Not in the back of a cab. Not a block from the sanctuary of my apartment. I breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly, trying to will my body into relaxation…it wasn't fucking working.

The cab stopped in front of my building and I got out heading straight for the door. Murphy had paid the cabbie while Connor held me, standing on the curb. The memory of his body against my own for the last time threatened to rip a hole in my control again and I choked it off. Not in my hallway. Not a minute walk from my front door.

The elevator doors dinged cheerily as they opened and I wanted to smash them with my boot. But I curbed that impulse. Very adult of me, I thought.

I was looking down at the keys in my hand as I stepped off on my floor, and was already fumbling at the lock on my door when I heard the soft voice from directly behind me, "Need help, child?"

My keys fell from my hand as soon as the first word was out of Il Duce's mouth, but they never hit the floor. The eldest McManus, who could have been mistaken for a doting grandfather (as long as you didn't look too closely into his eyes) moved like a panther, snatching my keys from the air less than six inches from my hand.

I laughed out a little sigh, accepting my keys back from him. "Apparently," I said, "I'm a little jumpy."

I caught myself looking at his chest, before I made a conscious effort to raise my face. There was something about Il Duce (as much as I tried, I couldn't bring myself to think of him as Noah) that always made me want to drop my eyes and hold my hat in my hand as a sign of respect. Something about him just screamed to be wary, but I could see why the boys had clung to him so readily. He projected strength and power as well as malice so thickly around him it was practically a tangible cloud.

He took a microscopic step back and extended both hands to me. I slid my keys into the pocket of my jeans and put my hands in his and was instantly stuck with how much they felt like Connor's. "It was lovely to have met ye, child. Ye truly are one of a kind."

I half-smiled and nodded as he released my hands and continued. "A shame it has to end this way," he said reaching into his coat.

My brain froze as my mind's eye saw the wide open barrel of one of the six pistols he carried leveling at my head and everything going black. It must have shown on my face because he smiled as he pulled an unlit cigar from the lining of his coat. I puffed out a breath I didn't realize I was holding as he touched my face lightly with the inside of his index finger as he spoke, "Ye need never fear me, child."

I laughed lightly through my nose, "Sorry."

He pinned me with his eyes as he lit his cigar, inhaling and exhaling, before he waved his hand at me, a gesture of dismissal of my apology. "Look after yerself," he said.

I nodded. "You too," I replied, "And…" I trailed off, thinking of the boys, the tears in my eyes threatening to escape again.

"Aye, child," he agreed, a knowing grin on his face. "I'll look after them, as well."

I smiled back, "Thank you."

Then he hugged me.

Hard.

Hard enough to pop my back and sudden and unexpected enough that he was already letting go before my arms moved to return the squeeze. He indulged my slow response for a second or so, then stepped back from me and swept down the hall with all the grace of a jungle predator, through the door for the fire stairs, and he was gone.

I stood in the hallway, dumbfounded, for a few seconds before I fumbled the keys back out of my pocket and managed to get the door open.

Surprisingly enough after Il Duce left I didn't feel quite so bad. I guess the idea of somebody watching out for them eased my soul a little. I was sure it would hit me at some point and I'd lose it a little, quite possibly a lot, but for now it didn't seem so pressing. I breathed a little easier as I threw my purse on the chair and started peeling clothes as I walked to my kitchen. I poured myself a shot of Jameson's and downed it and another before I poured it in a glass with some ice and a splash of Coke. I stirred it with my finger as I walked through the apartment towards my bathroom.

One of the best things about my place was the old plumbing and by association the old, deep, heavy tub in my bathroom. Sitting on the edge, I pawed through my bath salts and oils until I found the ones I was looking for and started the tub to fill. Sipping my drink, I retrieved my robe from the back of the bedroom door and a washcloth before I piled my hair on top of my head, securing it with two chopsticks.

Stepping in, I lowered myself an inch at a time watching as my skin flared red in reaction to the steaming water. I turned the knob with my toe as I settled back, whiskey in one hand, washcloth over my eyes and my mind wandering.

We had decided a few weeks ago (well, technically, the twins had decided, I had been informed) that we weren't going to spend our last night in bed together. They said they needed to have their heads in the game. Needed to be focused. I was, apparently, distracting, which, I suppose, was a compliment, I thought, smiling to myself.

Tonight, our last night together, had been fun, regardless. The boys had picked me up at my place and taken me to a nice dinner. Then onto a movie of my choice and I had gotten to make out with each of them in turn in the dark of the theater. Good times.

We had ended up back at Doc's at around 10 on a Monday, which would usually mean finding somewhere else to drink, since McGinty's is closed on Mondays. But today wasn't a normal Monday.

We had all just gotten a shot down and cigarettes lit when the others started to filter in. The three detectives first. Standing around nervously, chatting anxiously with the boys and me and Doc. Smecker sauntered in about five minutes later, shaking hands with the twins on either side of me while very studiously ignoring me.

Il Duce magically appeared at the back of the bar a minute or two later, sitting silently at a round table puffing up a sweet smelling cloud of cigar smoke. Smecker headed towards him, the detectives following in his wake like ducklings. The twins, in vigilante mode, touched me lightly on the arm as they rose and followed.

Smecker had made it clear from the onset that he did not want me involved in anyway with what they had planned. It was bad enough his own career was on the line but the careers and pensions of Dolly, Duffy and Greenly, too. The boys, with encouragement from their Da, had allowed that while I wouldn't sit in on the actual planning, it was up to them if I came along to any clandestine meetings.

Smecker wasn't an idiot. He knew that without his planning the boys had little to no chance of nailing their intended target. They needed him. And the boys knew that since the whole smiting of evil thing was kind of their bag, Smecker needed them, too. So, however grudgingly, I had been allowed along.

The meeting tonight had been a formality more than anything else, anyway. The plan had been set in stone weeks ago.

I didn't know the specifics of the plan, but considering that I had been watching highlights of Poppa Joe's most recent trial on TV for the last week or so, I could imagine. I knew it was gonna be a coming-out of sorts, and I had heard them practicing a speech to each other that I guessed would be for the media's benefit.

I was much less worried about this job than I had been about any of the others. I loved my boys dearly, but the planning aspect of this new vocation of theirs was a bit dodgy. They were a little too impetuous to be effective criminal masterminds. That seemed to be where Smecker came in. He was intelligent enough to know what would work and what wouldn't and smart enough to know that the twins would respond better to helpful suggestions than to outright orders.

Despite his opinion of me, I had to admit, sitting in my rapidly cooling bath, I respected him for what he was doing and for his honest concern for the safety of my boys. After all hell broke loose tomorrow, Smecker already had plans in place to get them out of the country and for that I would be eternally grateful.

Also more than a little jealous, I thought, adjusting the washcloth over my eyes and listening to the sounds of my apartment settling. It did burn my ass ever so slightly that he would be one of the last people Connor and Murphy would see before they left the country for good. I understood the necessity of it, really, I did, but no one ever said female jealousy was rational.

Our goodbyes had been perfunctory and brief. The twins concentrating on tomorrow and me trying to keep my head together. They had each kissed and hugged me and they put me in a cab. I looked back before I rounded the first corner and they were walking off. Not looking back.

I told myself it was no big deal as I lay there in my tub, the washcloth on my face covering the tears that were leaking from my eyes without my permission. Quick and clean was probably better for all of us. Like ripping off a band-aid, right?

Right.

All of a sudden the hairs on my arm stood up. I felt a shift in the moisture laden air as if someone was moving around the room. I was scolding myself, stupidly, for not putting bubbles in the damn bath so I could at least feel a little less exposed when a soft voice spoke from the vicinity of my toilet, as a hand took my drink from my limp fingers, "Waste of whiskey, girl, just letting the ice melt into it."


	2. Chapter 2

I felt my lips curl into a smile as my body relaxed. "I guess so. Good thing you're here to put a stop to all of that." I heard his Zippo strike and the smell of the flint overlaid by smoke hung heavy in the thick air. "You got another one of those? I don't have my pack on me."

I heard him stand. "I can see that," he said, leaning over me, his hands cool against my face as he placed the cigarette between my lips. I drew deep as his fingers ghosted over my chin, and as I raised my fingers to pull the cigarette from my mouth, I reached to remove the washcloth from my eyes. Murphy's hand closed around my wrist. "Don't," he whispered, "not yet." The steel bands of his fingers withdrew as I exhaled smoke through my nose and settled back.

The pads of his fingers were cool and calloused as they passed over my face, down my nose, across my cheekbone. He held my earlobe gently between his thumb and forefinger briefly before they slid down, gliding over the pulse in my throat. I inhaled deeply and caught the concentration of his scent, thicker and more tangible in the heat of the bathroom, I exhaled, heavily, and felt the heat from between my legs spreading through my body.

His fingers spread along my throat, parallel to my jaw as he passed the ball of his thumb over my lips. I parted them slightly, breathing heavier. He leaned in and replaced his thumb with his mouth, kissing me gently. I opened my mouth to allow him access, but his thumb under my chin pressed it closed. His lips met mine and remained, gentle pressure, his lips soft, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin of my neck.

I brought my free hand up to touch his face before he caught my wrist again and pressed my hand back down to the edge of the tub. I whined a slight protest against his mouth and he brushed back a lock of my hair, before he moved his lips a breath away from my ear to whisper, "Just let me touch ye, girl. For now. Just…let me touch ye."

His voice whispered against my skin, sending chills through my flushed body. I nodded slightly, not trusting my voice.

He kissed a trail from my ear down my jaw to my neck and up my collarbone. His hands ran across my skin lightly, leaving electric tingles in their wake. One hand moved to my throat, his palm across my windpipe and I tensed slightly. His mouth paused against my shoulder. "Don't ye trust me?"

I breathed deeply, and nodded, "With my life," I panted.

He placed a gentle kiss against my jaw. I hadn't even felt him move. "Then relax," he said, rubbing his thumb against my neck.

I exhaled deeply and complied, willing my body to melt into the water. I felt him smile against my skin and relaxed even further. I lifted the cigarette to my lips and inhaled as he pulled back to do the same. I pursed my lips to exhale and his fingers lighted around my mouth, tracing the curves of my lips before stroking up the line of my jaw to my ear, then back down my throat.

My skin was flushed and his touch maddeningly delicate as he traced my collarbone from shoulder to shoulder then his hand disappeared. I arched a little to find it again before I even realized I meant to do it, then his hand was back, fingers light at the top slope of my breast. I arched even further, bringing my nipple above the water line where it hardened to a nub in the sudden temperature change. Then his hand was gone and I whimpered as his lips touched my throat, his tongue running gently over my pounding pulse.

I felt his fingers touch my own as he plucked the cigarette from them. I gaped like a baby bird for a second until he put it to my mouth allowing me a drag before I heard the twin hisses as both cigarettes were dropped into the toilet.

Then his hand was back, running an uneven fingernail down my arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His fingers encircled my wrist, lifting it to the edge of the tub then sliding down my hand clamping my fingers onto the rim. He squeezed them once to let me know to keep them there before he repeated the movement with my other hand.

Then he withdrew again.

I could hear him moving around me.

He leaned close enough for me to smell him.

Then backed away.

I felt his hair brush my face. He breathed hot against my neck. I shivered.

He drew back and I leaned forward. His hand pressed against my chest, pushing me back, then roamed over my shoulder. Then away.

He licked my earlobe.

He nipped at my shoulder.

His fingers stroked down my side, below the waterline, to trace my ribs. I arched into his touch, my fingers tight enough against the tub they were actually starting to hurt. I loosened my grip as his fingers left my side, dragging up my belly, a frictionless pressure against my skin.

I bowed my back as his fingers passed between my breasts, out of the water, then disappeared again.

Murphy had always enjoyed the tease (not that I had ever complained) but something about this was really getting my motor running. It might have been the sensory deprivation, not knowing where his hand would land next, or his mouth, or his tongue, concentrating only on his scent and trying to hear where he would be next, but whatever was doing it, I was completely damp and it had nothing to do with the bathwater.

His fingers lighted on the foot I still had braced beside the faucet.

He gently kissed the knee I had just above the water.

He palmed my hip softly, and I pressed against him

His tongue snaked across the pulse in my throat and I mewled, my body tensing and curving as he blew gently against my damp throat.

"Fuckin hell, Murph," I moaned even as he moved back. I stayed taut and bowed, swaying slightly back and forth, my head fuzzy from whiskey, the heat of the water, and the soft intensity of his touches that had set my nerves jangling. I listened.

Nothing.

I turned my head towards the door, trying to sense where he was.

Nothing.

I started to feel a little stupid…wondering exactly how drunk I really was.

Then like a shot, he was back, his hands on either side of my face holding me in place. And his mouth, ohmygod, his mouth was on mine.

Murphy had never been a slouch when it came to kissing, in fact, I'd have to say he was the better of the two. A minute superiority, but still there. But this…

Words failed me. **Me**. My brain short circuited and I was aware of nothing in the world but Murphy's mouth. Soft, but strong. Yielding, but never out of control. Maddeningly slow, but I didn't want him to speed up. His tongue twisted with mine in a sensual dance that I instinctively knew the steps to. I arched towards him, my back bowing, my breasts outthrust, but he never faltered, never sped.

I felt the movement of the water around my waist, distant, unimportant, and realized that my thighs were rubbing hard against each other, trying to ease the throbbing in my nethers. But Murphy's mouth didn't change, and I found myself whimpering into him.

My fingers loosened from the edge of the tub with no permission from me and found his hair and neck by instinct. He sucked in a breath through his nose and it came out as a growl into my throat as his arms wrapped around my neck and shoulders crushing me, painfully, against him and the wall of the tub, but I couldn't have cared less. I felt his hands slide the chopsticks from my hair and the washcloth fell away as I shook my head just enough to let my hair tumble down but not enough to force him to remove his mouth.

His fingers traced up and down my spine gently, slowly, and I shivered against him. I felt something closely akin to physical pain as he slowly withdrew his tongue and pressed his lips firmly against mine, once, twice, then pulled back, his forehead to mine.

My eyes were still closed as I tried to catch my breath and slow my heart when he spoke softly against my skin, "You're slick, girl."

I grinned, dirtily, "Tell me about it."

I felt him smile against my neck as he moved his head to my shoulder, "Meant yer skin was slick." I was opening my mouth to explain the concept of bath oils (to one of the two men to whom I had previously tried and failed to explain the concept of facial skin exfoliators (interesting conversation that had been, 'Ye mean, wee little rocks scraping away yer skin?')) when his hand left the back of my neck and tracked down my chest, over one breast, tweaking my nipple as it passed, then trailed down my belly, into the water, feather light, down one thigh, up the other until his fingers settled between them.

My legs parted and I shivered in anticipation. I felt the smirk against my neck, "Oh, shut up," I panted, my nails digging into his neck and scalp as he nudged against my folds. He had barely brushed my aching bundle of nerves with his knuckle when a surge of electricity shot through my body hard enough to make me buck.

"Ease down, girl," he whispered, his breath on my ear, then moved behind my earlobe, at the edge of my jaw. Licking lightly. Kissing. "Ease down."

I relaxed against him, by a fraction. "That's it," he said, using a tone that I imagine one would use for spooked horses. "That's it, girl," he kissed my neck, "relax." He drew the last word out and as it caressed my skin, my body melted against his and my thighs splayed, wantonly. "Aye," he said as he bit my shoulder and eased a finger from my clit to my soaked opening.

I moaned as I draped my arms over his shoulder, and rested my face against his neck. His thumb never left my clit, massaging slowly, gently…and it was driving me insane. His fingers teased my entrance and I whimpered, rolling my hips forward, but there was no rushing Murphy tonight.

Slowly he eased a finger in, an inch at a time. A satisfied sound rolled from my mouth as he slid completely in and began twirling his finger in a small circle. My arms tightened around him as he began kissing the skin along my neck. "Ye like that?"

"Yea," I whined against him.

"Or like this?" he asked, speeding his thumb ever so slightly and changing the motion of his finger. My breath caught for a second and I couldn't reply.

"Oh, like that," I managed.

"Aye?" he asked, his breath cold as it passed over my damp skin.

"Yea," I groaned, holding him closer as I felt an orgasm building ever so deliciously slowly.

"Tell me," he said, his mouth against my ear.

"Just like that," I cried against him. "So good. Feels so good."

He growled against my ear, audibly sniffing my hair.

"Maybe," I whispered against his ear.

"Hmm?" he grunted against my neck.

"Just a little faster?"

I felt him smirk against my skin. "Thought you'd never ask, girl," he said as he slid a second finger into me and started scissoring them back and forth at a feverish pace. His thumb became rougher and faster and before I knew it I was clawing at his back, rocking against his hand. That slowly building orgasm caught it's legs and started to spread like a brushfire suddenly exposed to a strong south wind. I lost all sense of what he was doing for a few moments, the motions of his fingers all blurred together in a haze of pleasure, all I knew was that I was howling into his shoulder, my fists clenched in his shirt and my entire body was twitching like a current was running through it.

I came screaming, once, twice, but instead of stopping or even pausing, Murphy continued his assault. My voice failed me for a minute as my body started building up to release again.

"Oh God, Murph," I gasped, barely able to keep my breath. "You're killing me, here." My ears couldn't quite believe the words coming from my mouth. The deep inner being that was my sexuality, growled in frustration.

Murphy's fingers never wavered, "Ye want me to stop?"

"Christ, no, I don't **want** you to stop, but -," the words 'I'm afraid I may go insane if you don't' died on my lips as his rhythm slowed delectably. I groaned in ecstasy, my hands still clawing in his shirt.

"Cause I can stop," he said, his mouth against my ear. "If ye really want me to…"

I shook my head almost violently as my back arched, pressing my breasts against the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

"Are ye certain?" he asked, his fingers curling inside me, his ragged nails scraping over my inflamed flesh, sending a jolt through my body, and I jerked slopping bathwater onto his shoulder. I nodded sharply, rubbing my face against the damp cotton, like a cat scenting a leg, as the water seeped down his tee, down the wiry strength of his frame.

"Truly?" he whispered against my neck, his fingers never slowing, never relenting.

A breathy moan escaped my lips as I nodded, the sensation of water creeping down his chest, soaking the cotton against my nipples was almost as intoxicating as what he was doing with his fingers…almost. His thumbnail scraped my clit slightly and I moaned.

"Tell me, then."

I drew a breath and spilled out in a gasp, "I never want you to not be touching me. Sweet bleeding Christ, Murphy, don't stop. Please?"

And then he did.

The evil unpredictable bastard.

I whined into his shirt and used all the willpower I had left in me to keep from braining him with a shampoo bottle. "What the fuck, Murph?"

He took both my hands in his, pulling me to my feet. Then leaning down, he put his shoulder into my stomach and straightened, lifting me out of the tub, my ass in the air, as he carried me to my bed. "Just getting started, girl."

And all I could think was, 'Oh, fuck. He is going to drive me insane.'


	3. Chapter 3

He shrugged his shoulder as we approached my bed and I slid down the front of his body. Standing on my toes, I was just able to kiss his chin, his whiskers tickling. My hands slid up his arms, across the span of his shoulders and down his chest, my fingers digging in slightly over the flat of his stomach and he shivered a little. I grinned up at him crookedly and he flexed his stomach muscles under my hands and I laughed.

He grinned back, that goofy little kid grin that he gets when he was doing something wrong, then his face went still and serious. His eyes pinned mine.

I gulped.

"I've got too many clothes on, girl, for ye to be standing there in yer altogether. Give me a hand," his voice, an obscene promise of things to come.

I nodded as my fingers worked the hem of his t-shirt out of his jeans, catching it with my thumbs, I glided my hands up his chest, running my fingers over his ribs, his cool skin. Then around the hem to his back. All long lean muscle, twitching under my touch, as I pressed my body against the full length of his front, my nipples, no doubt making their presence known against his belly and his growing erection doing the same against mine.

His shirt came loose and I scraped my nails lightly up his spine as I pulled it over his head. As it cleared, I kissed the tattoo over his heart then laid my ear against it, listening to the beat. Once his arms were free, he tilted my chin up with two fingers, forcing me to meet those gorgeously intense eyes of his again. I held his gaze as his hands slid down my back, running through my hair, lighting on the round of my hips. Not moving my eyes, I started on his belt.

It came loose and I made short work of the button and fly on his jeans and they slid off his slender hips and hit the floor. I slunk down his body, taking his shorts with me, never taking my eyes from his. His hands slid up my body as I knelt, settling in my hair, close to my ears. My knees spread to the outside of his barefeet (and a tiny voice in the back of my mind was relieved to think that he hadn't been tromping around my place in his freakin' combat boots and I still hadn't heard him).

His already hard cock inches in front of my face, I lapped along the underside, flicking my tongue over the indention just behind the head. My hands slid up his legs to cup his ass cheeks as I slid him between my lips. Nothing fancy tonight, simple in and out. Working my tongue for all it was worth, but I didn't want him to fill up on the bread, so to speak.

Murphy knew as much and ran his fingers through my hair, lovingly, before grabbing me by an arm and pulling me to my feet. He squeezed my body against his and started moving forward, pressing me back until my knees hit the edge of the bed and I dropped.

I slid inwards, lying back in the center of the bed. He settled between my knees, close enough that I could feel his pulse against my slick opening. I arched my body, urging him into me, and he slid an arm under my ass, lifting me slightly. I rolled my hips in his grasp, mewling, then he slid slowly into me. As turned on as I was, I nearly came just from the sensation of his filling me an inch at a time, and I shuddered.

Once buried in me, he stilled, waiting for my body to relax again. I started to roll my hips again, needing him to move, the feel of him inside me, waiting, was too much, but he pressed his hand against my belly, the tip of his middle finger nearly in my belly button, the flat of his palm holding my groin in place. I whined. "Murph, please," I managed.

Maddeningly slow, he withdrew until just the head of his cock remained inside of me, then equally slowly, he slid back in. The sensation almost painful, it felt so good. My hands clenched in the sheets above my head, and I moaned. He repeated, my breath coming faster. I tried to roll my hips to meet his own again, but each time, the hand on my lower belly pressed down, holding me in place. It was incredible, and I didn't think it could feel any better, until I felt his thumb inch down towards my clit.

I arched my back again, as I begged him to keep going. His thumb settled with solid pressure against my aching bundle of nerves, and I shivered again as his body stilled. Once my shivering subsided, he continued his deliciously slow in and out strokes, now accompanied by deliberate teasing of my clit. Pinned as I was, I couldn't do anything but press my shoulders harder into the mattress, pull at the sheets, and moan like a whore.

"Look at me, girl," he whispered in the dark, and I shook my head. I knew meeting his eyes would push me over the edge and I didn't want to be finished, not yet. "Girl," he demanded, his thumb becoming rough, and I whined. "Look at me, or I'll stop." His body and thumb stopped instantly and I almost cried out. My nerves were jangling with unsatisfied sexual tension, and I couldn't let him stop now.

Then he said my name.

Whispered softly, almost like a prayer. The sound of it rolled over my skin and through my body in all the right places.

Slowly I opened my eyes and met his, burning with lust and what could very possibly have been love.

He took up his torturously slow pace again, never looking away from me, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold on to the moment. "I'm not going to last long, girl, don't want to," he grated through clenched teeth.

I shook my head, "Don't try," I groaned.

The arm around my hips clenched, pulling me closer, changing his angle inside of me, and his thumb started a circular motion against my clit, and I could feel the beginnings of the orgasm already leaking into my system. "Fuck, Murphy, that's it, just don't stop." He sped the circles slightly and added more hip to his thrusts, and suddenly my back bowed enough that my head was the only part of me touching the bed. My heels drummed beside his legs as my whole body jerked with the power of my orgasm, somewhere distantly, I heard him groan and felt the twitch inside of me as he unloaded, then felt the wiry tension of his body drain away as he collapsed on top of me, pressing me into the mattress.

Slowly, my breath returned, and I couldn't keep my eyes open. I felt him roll off of me, lean me onto my side, then curl his body against mine. "I'll miss ye, girl."

Even if I had had the presence of mind to answer, I wasn't sure I would have been able to reply to that, so I nodded, as his finger stroked the shell of my ear. I leaned back harder against him, as if I could absorb him, and he nuzzled into my neck as I dropped into unconsciousness, and distantly I heard him say, "I won't be here when ye wake."

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

I came back to myself an unknown time later, the taste of whiskey, cigarettes and Murphy's kiss still in my mouth, with a warm, naked body pressed against my back. I thought Murph had just fallen asleep until he moved and the smell of old leather moved into my nostrils. "Couldn't leave without giving ye a proper goodbye."

I smiled softly to myself, "I'm glad you're here, Connor."


	4. Chapter 4

Connor was apparently happy to be there, too, if the stiffy that I could feel pressed against my ass was any indication. I arched my hips back into him and heard him suck in a breath. One of his hands flattened against my belly, holding me to him and the other brushed my hair off of my neck giving his tongue access.

I moaned as I raised a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face to my neck. His free hand snaked around my shoulder to tease my nipples and I arched my back, pressing my shoulders into his chest.

He rolled into me, pinning me on my belly against the mattress. It was hot and humid in my bedroom and I could feel the sweat trickling into the small of my back and pooling there. Connor rose slightly, coming to his knees, resting on either side of my hips.

He laid gentle kisses on either side of my tattoo at the small of my back, then on each shoulderblade, then down my spine. He mouth stopped at the curve of my lower back and I could feel his breath moving over the small, salty pool of my sweat, rippling it and chilling it.

I was reaching for a corner of the sheet to soak the sweat up with, when his tongue dipped into it. I shivered. His hands that had been resting beside my shoulders, slid down my naked back on either side of my spine, resting on the round of my hips. He dipped one fingertip into the pool, then dragged it upwards tracing small spirals over my skin. Damp trails immediately cooled by the air circulated by my ceiling fan. My hands clenched in the sheets and my shoulders came off the bed, arching my nipples against the rough linen, warmed by my body heat and smelling of both twins. I moaned as his tongue followed salty tracks, stopping occasionally to softly kiss my skin or nip at my back with his teeth.

He straightened again, as his hands slid up my back, gliding over my flushed skin. One calloused hand moved under my hair and clamped onto my neck, his fingers and palm holding me still as his thumb stroked my pulse point.

His free hand traced my body, down my arm and back up. Down my shoulder, along my side, the outer curve of my breast, over my ribs. He cupped my hip against his hand, then traced over my ass, palming the other hip, then back up my spine. My breath came out in a shudder and I moaned, "Connor, please."

Connor had never been one to need much encouragement and tonight was no exception. Before the 'please' had even completely left my lips, his free hand had slid under my hip, bringing me to my knees. I pressed my ass against him, begging without words. Then the hand on my neck slid to my shoulder, holding me hard against him. His other hand slid up from my hip and found a nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger and goosebumps broke out all over my body. I shivered as he released my nipple and guided his hand to his member, lining himself up at my entrance, soaked and ready for him. He hesitated for a split second before he slammed into me up to the hilt. My head came off the pillow, my back bowed and I shrieked.

I could tell from the uneven pace that his control was gonna be an issue tonight, he was obviously on the edge and trying to make it last. As pinned as he had me there wasn't' much chance of my moving, but I tried to stay as still as possible and bit my lip to try to stifle my moans. But Connor was too good. Our bodies fit together too well and he played mine like a pawn shop guitar.

My body reacted on automatic pilot as I started pressing back against him, meeting his thrusts with my own. I could hear him groaning behind me as his fingers sank into the flesh of my ass, squeezing. "Oh, fuck," I exclaimed as the line between pain and pleasure blurred and I knew I was getting close. He slid one hand from my ass up my spine and wrapped a fist in my hair, yanking, hard. Pulling my head up and arching my back as my thighs started quivering in anticipation of release.

"Aye, lass," he said, the hand still on my ass, splaying out over my cheek, massaging lightly, "aye." I was moaning something that could have been his name (or it could have been the Gettysburg Address as blank as my mind was at the time) as my toes curled and I came. Hard. He pulled back on my hair, holding my ass to his groin as I shook with the power of my orgasm. He held completely still for a few seconds, until my shaking had almost stopped, when he slapped my ass, and it started up again. I cried out, in almost pain, as I trembled against him. "Once more, lass," he said, squeezing the stinging flesh of my right cheek, as he untangled his hand from my hair and sneaked it around my hip, to my clit, "come for me, once more," he said and he smacked my ass again as he roughly pinched my clit and I came undone, crying out his name as the newest spasm started in the area of my groin and rapidly flowed outward as I came, again. Howling. Shivering.

I expected to feel the twitch of him unloading inside me, but it didn't come (so to speak) and I could still feel his body taut behind me. And he didn't move.

I was still flushed and breathless as I glanced back at him over my shoulder, "Connor?"

"Ah, for fuck's sake, lass, don't do that."

I wrinkled my forehead at him in clear confusion, "Do what?"

He closed his eyes, tightly. "Say my name, like that, looking at me over yer shoulder with those eyes and yer freshly fucked hair all a mess. I'm hanging on by a thread, here," he grunted, as sweat beaded on his face.

I chuckled and faced forward again. "Aw, fuck, don't laugh, I feel it all through ye."

I bit my lip and held completely still, smiling to myself.

"I know it's a radical idea," I whispered, "but why don't you pull out?"

"Will. Just, give me a second."

He was breathing in through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, directly on to my back and I shivered. "Aw, Christ, lass."

I smiled, but stopped myself from laughing. "Stop breathing on me."

His hands clenched on my hips and he slowly started to withdraw, the sensation in itself so exquisite I nearly came again. I moaned his name, then he was out.

He collapsed onto his back, leaving me on my knees with my ass in the air. I stretched, luxuriously sated, and laid myself out, on my stomach, beside him. I pillowed my head on my arms and looked over at him. He was sweating, but he looked calmer now. I laid an arm across his chest, and he picked it up, kissed my palm, then returned it. I absently started running my fingers through his chest hair. Then progressively lower, soon circling his belly button with my fingers as my elbow brushed his probably still painful hard-on. I moved my hand quickly to my mouth, licking it and then back down.

I had learned Connor's stroke pretty early on, as he was a fan of an old-fashioned handjob, and I was using it now. Not exactly gentle tugging, but certainly not as rough as one would be with oh say a shovel handle. And rapid, a lot faster than he liked his blowjobs and much faster than his usual sex stroke. He sucked a breath in through clenched teeth as I balanced speed and grip and I saw his eyes close and his mouth open in the beginning of an orgasm face. "Aw, lass, you're gonna make me come."

I smiled, speeding ever so slightly, he groaned, "No, stop, for fuck's sake, stop." His hand reluctantly grabbed my wrist and stilled me. "Not yet," he said blinking his eyes. "I want ye to climb on."


	5. Chapter 5

I blinked at him. Connor was a control freak, and was always very obviously uncomfortable and unable to concentrate on the few occasions I would take the initiative and go for a ride on his joystick. And now he was asking me to do it. I arched an eyebrow in obvious confusion. "I think all the blood has rushed out of your head, Conn. You do realize what you just asked me to do?"

His eyes pinned mine, as he took my hand in his and pressed it against the side of his face. "Aye. The thing is, I like to control –"

"Everything?" I interjected

"The pace," he finished, ignoring me, "but…" he said, dropping his eyes and I could swear that I felt heat creep into his cheek. "Ye never look sexier, than when you're wide-legged over my hips, yer tits out front, and yer hair bouncing. Want to remember ye like the goddess of wet dreams that ye are…when I'm gone."

I felt one side of my mouth curl up in a grin, "You know how to talk to me, Connor," I said, getting my knees underneath me. Leaning my head over onto his chest, dragging my hair along the skin of his stomach, his fists clenching in the sheets at his side. I laid soft, open-mouth kisses along his belly as I crawled down the line of him. I threw one leg over his knees, leaning down, my mouth on his hip bone, one nipple teasing against his already weeping cock. I could feel him tensing underneath me, as I lapped at the head, before sliding him between my lips, relaxing my throat and jaw and engulfing him until he snubbed up against the back of my throat, and I could feel, on the tip of my tongue, the practically tangible buzz at the base of his cock where he was coiled and ready to unload.

"Lass?" he managed through gritted teeth.

I would have smiled at the sound of desperation in his voice, but I was afraid my teeth would catch him, so I slowly withdrew my mouth, letting my tongue caress the velvety head of his cock for a few seconds longer than was strictly needed. "Aye?" I asked.

"Are ye planning to fuck me, or just tease me to death?"

I did laugh out loud at that, considering how many times I had asked that exact same question of him and Murphy both. I laid my hands beside his ribcage and slid my body up his own, my outer labia enveloping him in slick and warmth without actually taking him in. I settled my weight on him, pressing the head of his cock against my clit, and the sensation started me to shivering.

"Ah, fuck me," he exclaimed, his head back, his eyes closed, his restraint wavering as he gripped my hips, trying to force me onto him.

I grinned, "Slow down," I whispered, as I arched my hips back, the movement subtle, but enough that he could feel it as his fingers dug almost painfully into my skin. "Relax," I said, taking him by the wrists and dragging his hands up my sides, to cup my breasts in his palms, his thumbs on my nipples, where he started to rub circles, hardening them to nubs. I moaned as I moved my hips ever so slightly, just enough to create a tiny bit of friction. His thumbs started to move in rhythm with my hips, and I smiled. "Not breaking you in half, am I?"

"Nah, lass," he said his voice a little less strained. I looked down at him and saw him watching my hips, taking in the motion. I sped ever so slightly. His hands, no where near as tense now as they had been at first, reluctantly left my breasts and slid down my belly to my hips, and lighted there, his thumbs stroking the skin at the apex of my hip bones. One hand remained as the other wandered, the backs of his fingers, running up my stomach, under each breast, then reversed as his fingertips trailed back down.

His hips started to answer my own slow and gentle motions and we rocked against each other as I watched him, watching me, memorizing me. My breath started to come quicker as the little extra force behind the motion, bumped my clit enough that I was starting to edge towards climax again. I wanted this to last longer, but I didn't have the heart to tell him to hold still, so I added a tiny bit of roll to my hips, just enough to confuse his rhythm for a second and buy me a bit of time, but the roll was enough to flatten him on the mattress and cause his fists to bunch in the sheets. I could feel his body underneath me tightening.

I paused my motions, bowing my back, arching my shoulders, thrusting my breasts out, and his hands returned to them, weighing each one in his palms as I slid a little further forward on his hips. I could feel his cock pressing hard against my folds, desperately seeking entrance. His hands slid down from my breasts around to my back, fingers tangling in my hair for a moment, before they trailed down my spine, landing on my ass, pulling at me, trying to control my motions. I grinned down at him, and slid his hands off of my hips and down onto my thighs, where his thumbs rubbed circles on my skin.

As I slid forward along his body, I felt the head of his cock, probing at my entrance, his fingers tensed on my thighs and I knew he had felt it too. I rocked my hips back to move him into position and I felt him slide closer to penetration in the damp between our bodies. I slid a hand up his chest, his neck, lighting my fingers under his chin, holding him with my thumb and forefinger.

I could feel the pulse of him member against my folds and I shifted left and right fractions of inches to line him up, then bowed my back outwards, moving my hips forward and sliding him into me an inch at a time. His mouth opened, no sounds escaping as my body accepted his. "Oh, God," I gasped, the sensation bringing me to the edge as I stopped moving, his cock in as far as my body would allow. We both froze for a few seconds, adjusting, and when I met his eyes again, they screamed, 'move, for fuck's sake, move!'

Sitting perpendicular to his body, I rolled my hips in a backwards half-circle, pausing with him half out of me, before I rocked forward fast, slamming him back into me. A sheen of sweat glistened over his entire body and I could feel it under my legs as I rode him, my pace ever so slowly increasing.

His hands slid down my legs, his fists resting in front of my knees as he came up on his elbows, his eyes never leaving my body, my breasts, my hips, my belly. The change in his angle was just enough to now rub my g-spot on every in thrust and I could feel myself building up to an insane release. My breath started coming in pants, his name on my lips as I worked my body over his.

"Fuck, lass, this is it," he grunted as he sat up as completely as he could with me straddling his hips. He used one arm to leverage himself into a sitting position and he laid the forearm of the other up my back, alongside my spine, with his hand resting gently on the back of my neck. I could feel my body starting to tremble again as my moans reached a fever pitch, sliding forward on him again, his cock thrumming my g-spot as I slammed him into me one last time before my entire body seized up as I came screaming his name and clawing at his chest. My entire body started to shiver and quake and he wrapped both arms around me, holding my quivering body against his own as he fell back onto the bed, taking me with him pressed against his chest. I heard him cry out in ecstasy, felt the twitch of his spurt inside of me, and I came again, shaking as he held me there tight against him, feeling me tremble.

We melted into each other, his body no longer tensed and taut and my own feeling boneless. I felt him slip out of me as we laid there, he, occasionally jerking beneath me, absorbed in his aftershocks and me trying to get my breath back so I could breath in as much of his scent as I could.

Slowly he came back to himself and started stroking my back, gently. I started to nod off, and he softly slid me to one side, pulling my leg across his thighs, laying my head on his bicep, wrapping his arm around my back and holding my hand against his chest.

I didn't want to sleep. I knew he would be gone when I woke up, if I fell asleep, but I couldn't help it. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. Sated, and just overall beat the hell down. "I'll never forget ye, lass," he whispered as I drifted off, and the last thing I remember was the feel of his heartbeat against my palm and the smell of him in my nostrils.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up suddenly the next morning, as if someone had dropped a book or something equally loud. I sat up straight in bed, looking around, terrified for some reason. I grabbed my bat and crept to my bedroom door, flinging it open I strode into the living room and found…nothing. The same in the kitchen, a big fat load of nothing. I checked outside my door in the hallway, and still zilch. I slung my bat to the ground next to my front door and clicked on the TV as I settled onto the couch.

The picture came up slowly of a waifish redhead, sobbing on the steps of the courthouse, saying, "Yes, I was there…"

The talking heads proceeded to babble on about the 'shocking display of vigilantism' and I felt the tears well up, so I turned it off and headed back to bed. My sleeve caught on my TV table as I walked away from the set, and I pulled it free before I realized that I had most definitely been naked when I fell asleep last night on Connor's chest, and now I was wearing my Bruins jersey and I know that **I** didn't' put it on.

I moped into my bedroom pulling the door closed behind me, shutting out the world that I didn't' want to deal with. Not today, anyway.

I flopped onto my bed and the scent of sex and mint and denim and leather wafted into the air, and I smiled to myself, the night coming back to me in Technicolor flashes and the imagined image of Connor digging through my dresser to find my jersey and dressing me in it before he covered me up and let himself out.

Was it love? For all of us? Is it even possible?

Did it matter?

No, I decided, hugging a pillow to my chest, not really. Whatever it was, it had been real.

And I was going to miss it, I realized as the tears started to spill over and I fell into a restless sleep, surrounded by comforting cotton and the smell of my men quickly fading away like the last strands of a pleasant dream in the unforgiving stream of morning sunlight.


End file.
